One Step Ahead
by Caspar Crouch
Summary: Decided to try the whole book series thing. Like it? Hate it?
1. Chapter 1

One Step Ahead

Year One: The Secret Chamber

**Chapter 1**

The light exploded outwards in every direction. Up, down, left or right – the words lost any meaning as the destructive power turned everything upside down again and again. Glass shattered, walls crumbled and furniture was incinerated as the light swept across the house. The car, which was coming up the driveway to the house, was thrown off the road and slammed into a nearby house.

In the center of a magical maelstrom was a little child. He was ten, but looked much younger. At the moment, he had his eyes tight shut, attempting to control his outburst so that he wouldn't harm anyone. He had outbursts before, but never something as massive as this. He didn't know where they came from and never was completely able to control it. However, this was a third day since the Dursleys went to spend the weekend with aunt Marge, leaving him locked up in his cupboard and he wasn't sure how much longer he could survive without water and use of a restroom. Now, escaping a cupboard was rather easy, considering that it didn't have a door any more. Nor any walls. Not even a ceiling.

"I am in so much trouble" – Harry muttered.

(())

Mafalda Hopkirk really disliked her job. Not that it was boring – it was actually fascinating to observe the enchanted map of the magical Britain. Nor did she have a problem with superiors or coworkers, since she really had none. Who in their right mind would want to spend all day observing a map, sending letters to underage magic-doers and noting them down for DMLE to take care of?

No, the problem was the job itself. Mafalda sincerely liked children and hated to be the one to punish them for something so minor and relatively harmless. Especially, since she knew that the law was greatly biased against the muggleborns – nobody else's homes were placed under Trace, after all.

Suddenly, a loud screech erupted from one of the silvery instruments on her desk. This one was especially designed for muggleborns, who have yet to receive a letter from Hogwarts. The purpose of the instrument was to warn the obliviator squad about a possible occurrence.

"Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging" – read Mafalda Hopkirk. – "Level Eight emergency. Oh dear, I guess I'd better warn the obliviators fast."

(())

Richard Proudfoot was aiming to be an auror, but with the recent budget cuts there just were no open spots. Even the Hit Wizards were already fully staffed. It was an incredible disappointment for the recent Hogwarts graduate. Fortunately, the new Head Auror Amelia Bones promised to save a spot just for him.

As a result, he was working as a part-time obliviator and found himself liking it. It wasn't the auror office by any means, but some of the situations the obliviators were called in were absolutely sidesplitting hilarious.

Unfortunately, there was nothing hilarious about their current predicament. Level eight emergency meant enormous amounts of destructive magic were thrown around and possible fatalities. The only reason the obliviators were called before the aurors was because the source of magic was a child and a muggleborn child at that.

So far, their observations confirmed the dire predictions. The center of attention, obviously, was on the house that was completely leveled. The squad already put up some muggle repelling wards and were modifying the memories of those who already saw the disaster strike. Apparently, gas leak was the year's favorite.

On the sidewalk was an upturned and slightly squashed car. Inside was the first fatality in form of a very large beefy man with skull fracture. A thin horse-faced woman and a young boy who looked a lot like the dead man were in critical condition and quickly portkeyed to Saint Mungo's.

Richard was the first obliviator brave enough to walk into the wreckage. The destruction was fairly impressive – even steel didn't survive the explosion. He was thinking that the muggleborn who started the whole thing would be among the fatalities. From magical exhaustion if nothing else.

The obliviator took another step and almost jumped five feet into the air. While he didn't shout: "It's alive! It's alive!", he came pretty close.

The boy he almost stepped on opened his startlingly green eyes and looked at the obliviator.

-Hello. - Said Richard, blinking. The child blinked back and promptly passed out.

-I need some help! - The man shouted, drawing attention of his colleagues and kneeling by the boy's side. Thankfully, he was still alive, though there was something on his face. Brushing the fringe from the child's forehead, Richard stared.

-By the gods, - muttered another obliviator. - It's Harry Potter!

(())

There were advantages to hanging around that spineless, nay even boneless, blustering self-important waste of space that was called the Minister for Magic (Minister _of _Magic, muggle-lovers insisted on called him) Cornelius Fudge, Lucius Malfoy reflected. And this was a big one.

-I am sure that as soon as he gets out of Saint Mungo's Hospital, Mr. Potter will require a proper home and a caring family. - He interrupted the reporting auror.

-Quite right, quite right. - Muttered Cornelius, watching his largest campaign contributor nervously. - I am sure we will find someone.

-But he already has... - Frowned the auror. Dawlish, wasn't that his name?

-A proper pureblood wizarding family with enough funds to prepare him for his role in society. - Lucius rolled right over the auror, hinting heavily. Dawlish and Fudge had similar uncomprehending looks on their faces. Lucius briefly wondered if they were related to Crabbe and Goyle.

-Maybe I should ask Albus if he knows any... - Muttered the Minister. Lucius' eye twitched.

-A family that already has a child his age. A family whose British wizarding roots go to the Norman Conquest. A family with a whole mansion in Wiltshire to raise a child.

-Huh? - Replied the dazed and ever eloquent minister.

-The Malfoy family, you...minister. - Lucius barked out, pushed to the ends of his patience. - Auror, bring the child to my home and give this letter, - the head of the Malfoy family briefly scrawled his instructions, - to my wife. Meanwhile, Minister and myself will deal with the Wizengamot.

Both his companions nodded, relieved to finally have instructions, and the brutish auror left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Harry slowly blinked his eyes open. He had the strangest recollection of a motley group of folk in weird clothes and carrying sticks. While he had quite a vivid imagination, for the life of him he could not understand what brought this on. Then everything came flowing back.

Harry sat up abruptly.

-So you are awake. - Came the drawling voice from right side.

-Were you born with a gift of stating the obvious or do you practice? - He retorted without thinking and clamped his mouth shut. Harry's inability to control himself often landed himself in a cupboard with no meals, but his mouth just had a life of its own.

Wide eyed, the boy observed his new surroundings. He was in a large, even enormous bed with snow-white blankets and emerald green curtains. The room around him was nothing like he ever experienced – wide and light, with tasteful green and silver highlights, rich carpets and floor-to-ceiling windows.

-You can't speak to a Malfoy like that! - Came an angry voice from behind him.

Harry turned back and for the first time took notice of the boy with the drawling voice. He was fairly short (he was even shorter than Harry and that was saying something), pale-skinned and pale-haired. Currently he was clenching his fists and pink spots appeared in his cheeks.

-What's a Malfoy? - Harry asked curiously. - Some rare sort of an animal?

Judging by the boy's rising level of anger, the Dursley rule of "don't ask questions" was working here as well.

-Why you little mudblood spawn!

-Is that some sort of insult? - Harry inquired. - In that case you might need to work on it.

The pale boy opened his mouth to retort, but then took a deep breath and calmed down. Harry felt his respect for the boy rise. The boy-with-the-drawling-voice took a piece of weird looking paper from his pocket and smoothed it.

-My father sent a note that you are coming and to be treated with all the courtesy of a guest. He actually sent it to mum...I mean mother, - he hastily corrected himself. - but she is away on important Wizengamot business.

It would have probably sounded more impressive if Harry had the faintest idea what Wizengamot even was. Then again, if Harry hasn't ever heard of it, how important could it be?

-...So I am going to be your host for the evening.

-Cool. - Harry shrugged. - Now do you mind telling me where I am? And who are you?

The boy-with-the-drawling-voice blushed. Then he shook his head, adopted an expression that was probably meant to be aloof (though it came through as constipated) and puffed himself up:

-You have the honor of speaking to Draco Lucius Malfoy and are currently located in our ancestral family home of Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire!

Harry blinked. Then again. OK, that answered two of his questions (three if you count the "what's a Malfoy" one, which, in retrospect, didn't sound so smart), but raised a million more.

-And why am I located here? - He asked cautiously.

-Father saved you from those filthy muggles and brought you back to our world. You are here while he deals with things in Wizengamot. I wonder if he will meet mother, though they do have different parts... - The boy-with-the...Draco Malfoy, Harry hastily corrected himself, trailed off.

-What's a muggle? And what's Wizengamot? That's the second time you mentioned it. - He asked curiously.

-A muggle is a person without magic. - Draco explained off-handedly. - And Wizengamot is our supreme ju-di-ci-ary, - blonde stumbled a bit over the big word, - body.

Harry blinked once more. Did he just hear that right?

-Did you say magic?

-Well, obviously. - Draco huffed.

-But... - Here Harry, for the first time, noticed a moving portrait on the wall opposite his bed. Then he took notice of the fact that the drawings on Draco Malfoy's clothing (was that a dress?) also wasn't stationary. Then he remembered his own "outbursts" which he couldn't find any rational explanation for.

-"Tell me everything!" - He sat forward with an eager smile.

(())

Albus Perciwal Wulfric Brian Dumbledore dragged his past the gargoyle and looked reproachfully at his phoenix:

-You could have saved this whole walk if you only flamed me right in.

Fawkes chirped in a way that convened his mirth and sent several images to the headmaster's mind.

-I need some physical exercise? - Albus gaped at the cheeky bird. Fawkes bobbed his head and, with a last reproachful gaze, Albus started up the spiral staircase.

-That's it. - He grumbled. - Traditions be damned, I am charming the damn thing to work as a muggle escalator. Pureblood traditionalists in general and Lucius Malfoy in particular could go torture some kittens, snog their cousins or whatever else it is they do in spare time.

To be fair, Albus had quite a reason for his dislike of the blond aristocrat. A week ago Cornelius flooed him about a highly controversial bill regarding muggleborn rights. It truly saddened the old wizard like being able to press criminal charges and pursue justice to the same extent as a pureblood wizard and against said pureblood wizard was in question. This kind of thing should have been common sense, but the harshly ingrained prejudices of the world he grew up in had once again overshadowed any kind of logical thinking.

He told the obtuse man to pass the bill of course. He "reasoned" that over a third of the voting population was muggleborn and it would look absolutely awful for him to betray them like that. It was truly exasperating to explain to him that yes, not passing such a bill would be seen as betrayal on his part, but the thick man eventually got it. He would pass the bill if only to appease the voters and not out of any sense of moral responsibility. Albus would take the small victory for wizard decency where he could though.

Or at least he would have if a certain Lucius Malfoy had not come sweeping into the room just as Cornelius was about to give his signature to the damn thing. The noble made a long-winded speech about how it was such a shame that the mudbloods had won over the minister's loyalty and the pureblood minority would now have to suffer. Before the pompous man left he made a sly comment about the possibility of Fudge being a blood traitor and then it all went to hell.

The older wizard was forced to make a theatrical stance on the cowardly minister's behalf. He berated the Malfoy patriarch in a manner befitting a headmaster, that the way he spoke to Cornelius was completely disrespectful for one addressing the minister and their superior. He put a special emphasis on the last one, which Fudge finally seemed to realize and started acting his position for once. Malfoy had realized that Cornelius' backbone would remain as long as Albus was around, so he apologized in a way that was most certainly not sincere and changed tactics.

The Malfoy head had demanded to stay and make sure that the purebloods were represented when the bill was passed. The ensuing couple of days could be best described as a "debate" between Albus and Lucius, or attempts at getting him alone so they could influence him privately via faulty scheduling snafu's, taking the minister out to a private lunch, crashing on said private lunch, and "mysterious" paperwork assaults.

Albus eventually came out on top when the messenger arrived on behalf of the Board of Directors demanding Lucius on some matter or the other. The Malfoy glared at the elder wizard, who simply smiled benignly with that crazy twinkle in his eyes. It was no fault of his that Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had decided to give a report of school's status a bit ahead of time. It wasn't out of character for her either. He may have let it slip to the woman that Lucius was getting in the way of common decency again, but that was neither here, nor there.

All that really mattered was that Fudge has seen things his way in the end and muggleborn citizens of England could sue the pants off their pureblood counterparts equally. Everybody wins.

It was a victory, but it was a victory that left the elder wizard cranky, bone-tired and aware that he was not as young as he once was. Finally passing through the threshold of his office, the headmaster made several steps toward his favorite chair. Then the floo activated.

-Albus! Lucius Malfoy has just petitioned Wizengamot for custody of Harry Potter!

Throwing a last regretful gaze toward the chair, Albus picked up his robes and sprinted toward the floo:

-Coming through!1

(())

Harry's head was throbbing from all the information he just received. Apparently, he was not a freak, he was a wizard. His outbursts were called accidental magic, though when Harry told Draco that he accidentally leveled his relatives' house the blond boy scoffed. He found out that his parents were a witch and a wizard and they died from a wand of a another wizard, a dark one. Draco wouldn't say his name, no matter how much Harry goaded him. Harry also found out that he is famous for destroying the said terrible wizard with the awesome power of his forehead which, it seems, is so thick that it could actually reflect killing curses.

Then there was the fact that this mysterious noble, who's son Harry had met, was trying to get custody over him. Harry was OK with moving away from Dursleys, but he had some doubts about the current family as well. For one, Draco always insulted muggles. While Harry agreed with him in regards to Dursleys, he still didn't think the rest of them were really all that bad. Then there was the fact that Draco constantly insulted his mum with epithets like mudblood, muggle-spawn or magic-thief.

Still, moving away from Dursleys was worth some discomfort and Harry did his best to hold a lid on his temper.

-...And this is the Hall of Glory. - Draco waved his arms theatrically. - Every Malfoy ancestor back to Nicholas Malfoy, a fourteenth century head of Malfoy family that dispatched quite a number of muggles that irritated him under the guise of Black Death. The things those stupid muggles believe, huh? - Draco winked at him.

-Yes. Quite ridiculous. - Harry said through gritted teeth. He wondered if Draco realized that he was boasting of an ancestor, who was a mass-murderer. And it wouldn't be the first one.

-Exactly! - Draco Malfoy beamed. - And this is the Drawing Room, but it's not the coolest thing.

Harry let himself disagree. Despite himself, he was impressed. A long decorated table dominated the room under the crystal chandeliers, but dark purple walls had some extremely comfy-looking furniture and the ornate marble mantelpiece above a roaring fire were nothing to scoff at either.

-Come _on_! - Draco tugged on his arm. Harry found it somewhat funny that even as pampered as Draco was, he was still weaker physically than a malnourished Harry.

The Malfoy Heir led him down a cunningly disguised (using magic, no doubt) secret passage down to a room beneath the Drawing Room floor.

-Here we have our family's largest dark artifacts collection in case the ministry ever tries to raid the Manor. This, - Draco lifted something looking like a shriveled scull, - is the scull of Bonehammer, the goblin who led a goblin rebellion in eighteenth century. My grandfather personally beheaded him with a particularly nasty curse. The scull acts as Imperius on any goblin that touches it. Insanely illegal, of course, and could start a new goblin rebellion if discovered.

-Goblins are real? - Harry burst out.

-Of course they are, the greedy disrespectful little buggers.

-What else is real? Are dragons real? Are fairies? And dwarves and elves?

-Yes, they all are real. - Draco drawled, bored, and pulled up a sealed clay container. - This is Greek Fire. Stupid muggles think they invented it and just lost the recipe. They wish! This was the precursor of fiendfire, the potion version that, unfortunately, can't be controlled.

-Illegal as well?

-Obviously. It is so full of dark magic, if it were not in an enchanted room it would set of detectors even in the neighborhood towns.

Harry finally understood, why Draco was boasting to him about this. He clearly couldn't tell his friends about illegal stuff, but if Harry was going to live with them...

-This is a jar of tomb scarabs. Pull it open and they will conceal even the sun itself.

Draco put the jar back, apparently growing bored, and looked around. The room was interesting even without all the artifacts – it had real prisoner cells with real chains and manacles and what looked like bones. Then Harry remembered Draco's tales and shuddered. He didn't want to know who they came from and how he died.

-Dobby! - Draco suddenly snapped and, with a pop, there suddenly was a creature in the room. Harry stared at it wide eyed and it stared right back with large green eyes.

-Why are the chains not rusty enough? - The pale boy demanded. The Dobby creature started twisting his huge ears on distress and Harry suddenly felt some sympathy. Dobby looked like Harry did himself when he knew that ho matter what he said, the Dursleys would punish him. The oversized dirty pillowcase only highlighted that impression.

-Master said that the chains need to be fresh enough and ready for use...

-Stupid elf! - Draco snarled. - The chains don't look as good, if they are not rusty enough! Are you trying to make me look stupid in front of our guest?

An unbidden remark almost slipped of Harry's tongue, but he remembered that he is a guest just in time.

-Bash your head against the wall, elf!

-What! - Harry exclaimed and moved forward only to watch the poor creature follow the order.

-Again! And again!

-Stop! - Harry cried, dashing forward and grabbing the elf before he could hurt himself any more.

-What are you doing? - Draco demanded. - Release the creature!

-No! - Harry replied with no little passion. - You have no right to treat him like this!

-It is my elf! - The Malfoy heir yelled, spit flying from his mouth. - It is my property and I will do whatever I bloody want with it!

-Dobby is a he, not an it! - Harry yelled right back, hugging the little elf even closet to his chest. - And I won't let you hurt him!

-I guess you take after your mudblood mother after all!

-Stop calling her that!

-Or what?

Harry gently put the elf on his feet, took two steps toward Malfoy and punched him in the nose as hard as he could.

-Ow-w-w! - Draco Malfoy yelled, clutching his nose with one hand and trying to use other to clumsily punch Harry. But the brunette boy had years of Harry Hunting experience on the young noble and easily sidestepped the blows.

He knew that his chances at leaving the Dursleys probably decreased dramatically, but he didn't care. He could not just let this pampered spoiled little brat who probably never knew any hardship continue to punish this...Dobby.

As Malfoy started becoming more violent and erratic in his swings, Harry took several steps back. Instead of following, the Malfoy heir picked up the first thing he could and threw it at Harry with unerring accuracy. Harry ducked just in time and the object hit the door frame of the only exit and shattered. Both boys yelped and jumped back as the fire roared into existence.

It was the clay jar with the Greek Fire, Harry understood just a moment too late, as he moved back wards.

-Dobby! - The Malfoy Heir yelled. - Get me out of here!

Harry turned around only to see the elf take the pale boy and pop out of existence.

Harry was left alone in the burning room.

(())

1Most of Dumbledore part came from a truly fascinating fanfic "From Danny to Harry" by martial-general-bookworm. Even those who have no idea who Danny Phantom is (though five minutes on Danny Phantom wiki would be enough) – read it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The audience exploded in applause. Lucius' speech was passionate and played on every single prejudice, every single grudge the wizards had against muggles. It was rather brilliant if he could say so himself.

The Malfoy patriarch stepped back from the platform and immediately looked in Dumbledore's direction. Judging by the defeated look on the old man's face, he knew it too. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of Harry Potter going back to his muggle relatives now. Lucius Malfoy won this round.

Granted, Dumbledore was far from defeated and it was evident in the set of the wizard's shoulders that he had no intentions of giving in.

-Dear Lords and Ladies of Wizengamot, dear wizards and witches in the observer stands, I must admit that I committed a grievous wrong. It is now obvious that leaving Harry Potter with his caring relatives, no matter how safe, was a mistake. They were ill equipped to deal with his magic and, as Lord Malfoy has oh so eloquently explained, Mr. Potter requires a true wizarding family. Someone, who can educate the young man in the ways of our world. Someone, who can help the powerful wizarding child to control his extensive magic, capable of leveling an entire house.

Lucius winced at the reminder and briefly wondered about the security of having Harry Potter in his home, but leaned forward eagerly nonetheless. Dumbledore was walking right into a trap. The most obvious choice for him would be the Weasleys, who were one truly loyal family with a lot of experience in child-raising. Fortunately, Lucius had no doubt that if Dumbledore was foolish enough to choose them, the Wizengamot would take Malfoys over the blood traitors any day of the week, even with all of Dumbledore's pull. Among the Headmaster's supporters, Diggory and Lovegood also had children, but Diggorys were, basically, nobodys in the world of politics, while Lovegoods were too crazy. Another choice would be for Dumbledore to take the child himself, but Lucius had arguments against that ready as well. Chief Warlock of Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of ICW, Headmaster of Hogwarts (not to mention the Grand Sorcerer, which _still _made Lucius almost green with envy) – all those positions required time, effort and dedication. He just won't have enough time to care about a young child as well. Now, if he agreed to relinquish some of those positions...

-...A talented educator with decades of experience. I propose...Minerva McGonagall!

Lucius almost fell off his seat. That was one bloody unexpected move! Then again, Dumbledore used the cover of senility and eccentricity to further even more ridiculous notions. What made this worse was that it seemed like a perfectly good choice. Nobody could deny her effectiveness as an educator (hell, Lucius himself was her student in his Hogwarts years!) and she was known all throughout Britain for her achievements in transfiguration. Despite her distasteful and unfashionable keeping of her muggle family name, her diseased husband, Elphinstone Urquart, left her quite comfortable in financial matters. She also fought in the war and worked at DMLE for two years, which made her capable of protecting the famous child. She was a perfect candidate, damn it!

Barely managing to hold in his scowl, Lucius stormed back to the platform:

-Lords and Ladies, while I agree that leaving Harry Potter, _the _Harry Potter with muggles was unacceptable, I don't think we should put a burden like this on the poor woman's shoulders. I would think a strong family unit with a powerful man should be far more appropriate. I was, of course, suggesting the Malfoy family. We are comfortably well off, quite capable of hiring the best tutors and even have the child of his age.

Seeing that his audience was looking unconvinced at the impromptu speech, Lucius grew desperate and drew on one event that was sure to conjure a reaction:

-Then there is the scandal of McGonagall's mother running off with a muggle, of all things.

This certainly evoked a reaction, but Dumbledore interfered before it could come to anything:

-I most certainly don't see how this relates to the current situation. And if we were to start airing dirty laundry, I might at least notice that Minerva doesn't have a criminal record. But that is neither here nor there. We were talking about a suitability of a home and a family for a young boy.

Lucius took in a breath. He knew that what he was about to say would turn the female portion of Wizengamot against him, but they were a minority and he was playing on stereotypes.

-With all respect, Albus, Minerva is but a frail woman. I acknowledge her experience with children at school, but I don't think she would be strong enough to contain a growing boy...

At that exact moment, the doors to the chamber burst open and a person ran in:

-Master Malfoy! Master Malfoy!

Lucius turned, ready to deliver a scathing diatribe, but the messenger's next words froze him:

-Malfoy Manor is burning!

(())

Jack Williamson was one of the first aurors at the scene and, despite his extensive training and no little magical power, he was vastly outclassed by the roaring inferno. He thanked all gods that when the dark detectors wailed and he apparated to the spot, he was too late to enter the house. It was only scant moments later that the windows blew out and the liquid fire spilled outside into the lawn. His colleague who's name Jack couldn't quite remember, was not as fortunate. His burning scull was still leering at the auror from the flames.

Several more people popped in, including the infamous Lucius Malfoy.

-Don't get close! - Jack yelled, trying to out scream the roar of fire. - If you are hit even with a single drop, the flames will engulf you and this fire just doesn't go out!

-My wife and my son! - The blond man screamed, all pretenses of politeness and higher society etiquette gone. - They were inside!

The auror didn't like the former Death Eater, yet couldn't help but feel some pity for the man. Nobody deserved to loose both his home and his family like that.

-I am here! - Came a yell from another side and Lady Malfoy ran into the view. - I wasn't at Manor since I left this morning for the usual business. Where is Draco?

Lucius Malfoy just looked toward the inferno and this was confirmation enough. Narcissa wailed and collapsed with a dead faint. A healer on the scene checked her and yelled for help and transportation to St. Mungo's. Apparently, her heart couldn't handle the news.

-Where is Harry Potter? - Someone asked.

-Harry Potter? - Jack questioned distractedly. - What's he got to do with this mess?

-There was a Wizengamot hearing concerning his guardians. Meanwhile, he was kept at Malfoy Manor.

-Well, I haven't seen the kid... - Jack started, but was interrupted by a yell.

-Draco!

Lucius Malfoy burst free of restraining hands and rushed toward his son, who was running around the other side of the manor.

-Dad!

Jack felt a little bad for interrupting the family reunion, but it was his job to ask:

-Mr. Malfoy, the younger one, do you have any idea how such a fire got started?

Draco Malfoy sniffed and tried to hold in his tears:

-I-it was an-n ac-c-cident. Harry was being annoying and we fought and he punched me and I... I didn't mean to pick up the jar with the Greek Fire, I swear! I just threw the first thing I could at him! A-and it sh-shattered.

Auror Jack Williamson stepped back. That answered a lot of questions. The only fire he knew that could cause such a flame was fiendfire, but this certainly wasn't it. They studied Greek Fire more in the ways of history than practice during the Auror training, but it fit the description from what he could remember. The question of how a jar of Greek Fire found its way into Malfoy hands was certainly interesting, though Jack had no intentions of asking it right now. After all, even Death Eaters deserved some sympathy and the loss of Malfoy Manor and thousands upon thousands of galleons of objects inside was punishment enough, he felt. Yet, one thing still bugged him...

-Where is Harry Potter? You said he was in the room with you?

-My son doesn't know. Now, if you'll forgive us, we have a hospital to visit. - Lord Malfoy said stiffly and apparated on the spot. Jack felt his sympathy disintegrate.

Someone tugged on his sleeve and Williamson looked down.

-Dobby look, sir auror. - The little soot covered elf told him. - After Dobby took little Master out of the house, Dobby go back and look and look and look, but the great Harry Potter was no longer there! So Dobby come back.

With those words, Dobby hurried after his masters, leaving auror and everybody else within hearing range with a single question.

Where was Harry Potter?

(())

-Oh my god, are you alright? What happened? Where are your parents?

A second later, Eliza realized that the child was unconscious.

-Poor dear. We need to get you to a hospital.

(())

Once again, Harry woke up in a white bed. This one was much smaller and the smell hinted that this was a normal, non-magical hospital. For a second, he wondered if the boy-with-the-drawling-voice, moving paintings, creature-who-was-named-Dobby and magic were all a dream. He didn't think so. After all, the burns still hurt and he couldn't imagine the Dursleys bringing him to a hospital for his injuries anyway. He only went inside when Dudley had to get his shots.

That fire was really scary. Harry thought he was going to die and that, in a strange way, seemed to clear his head and make him think harder than ever. Weird. Anyways, he remembered how Draco pointed out several secret passages while they were exploring the manor and several subtle things to indicate one. With his newfound clarity, Harry found a passageway inside the third cell behind the chains, and managed to get in and close the wall just in time to escape the flames, though the stone still overheated enough to burn him.

A nurse came in and noticed that he woke up.

-Hello, dear. What's your name?

-Harry. - The boy replied. - Harry McGonagall.

The Scottish sounding name came from the blond boy and it just stuck in his head. After all, Harry was most certainly not returning to the Dursleys, so using his name was a no.

-Where are your parents, little one?

-They died. My aunt told me that it was in a car crash, but I recently found out that they were killed by a bad guy who killed many other people.

-Oh, I am so sorry! - The nurse was horrified at her faux pas.

-It's OK. I was only one.

-Did you say you lived with your aunt? Where is she?

Harry made big eyes and did his best to seem scared:

-I don't know! She took me here to see some sights, but there was a fire and we got separated. She could have gone home by now or think that I went home!

-Calm down, calm down. Where is your home?

-In Inverness.

Harry didn't really know where the place was, but judging by aunt Petunia's rants, it was somewhere far far away. Exactly where Harry wanted to be.

-Oh, dear. I don't know if we have someone going in that direction. Do you know your aunt's phone?

He shook his head, remembering the Malfoy Manor:

-She's old-fashioned. She doesn't believe in phones.

-Oh, dear. - The nurse repeated. - You are lucky the lady who found you paid your hospital expenses and left enough money for a ticket to practically anywhere before she left. Still, I'll have to find someone to escort you.

-Oh, it's no trouble. - Harry smiled earnestly. - I would love to go myself!

-I have no doubt you would. - The nurse replied with a smile of her own. - But I did promise that lady that I would take care of you.

(())

Harry has never been on a train before. He sat by the window, entranced at all the beautiful views and the speed at which they were moving. This was something totally out of his realm of experiences and he was loving every moment of it.

His minder was an elderly man and Harry had no doubt that he'll be able to slip him. The boy felt a bit guilty, but only a bit. He was _not _coming back to the Dursleys.

The nurse threw away Dudley's hand-me-downs because of the burns and Harry was traveling in clothes of her nephew, which, while not being new or an exact size, were still an incredible improvement. Add to that two full meals at the hospital and Harry felt as if he were ready for anything.

As the train was slowing down, he excused himself to the restroom and found his way to in between the carriages. In a move seen in one of Dudley's movies, Harry waited until the train slowed down, but did not yet roll into the platform and jumped off.

(())

Living on the streets was nowhere as bad as uncle Vernon made it sound. True, getting food wasn't easy, but he had years of Dursley training and was quite proficient at snatching whatever caught his fancy while nobody was looking. Finding a shelter for the night, especially on rainy nights, wasn't easy either, nor did he like some of the looks he was getting from people who assumed him homeless. But it was all irrelevant.

Freedom! The very word tasted incredibly sweet on his tongue. A little like sugared peanuts street vendors were selling and a little like the chocolate bar he stole from an inattentive shopkeeper. He could go and do whatever he wanted. It was something he never experienced before and he couldn't get enough of it. Sometimes it felt as if Dursleys were in another lifetime, though barely a month has passed.

(())

Minerva McGonagall was in a contemplative mood. Not that it was unusual for her, but...

In retrospect, she may have overreacted. For some ridiculous reason, she still had this belief that Albus Dumbledore could do no wrong and when a second Potter tragedy happened, she was unreasonably angry. True, it was a pity about Vernon Dursley's fate, but she was more concerned about James and Lily's child. What kind of pressure could have forced accidental magic of that caliber? And to be transferred to the house of Malfoy's, of all people, and then lost in a fire. That was more than any child deserved to suffer.

Minerva screamed herself hoarse at Albus, then took all the accumulated leave times to sort out her mind. Now she felt guilty. After all, the headmaster was only human and made mistakes. Because of his greatness, people tended to forget about the fact and blow his mistakes out of proportion. Minerva was sad to say that she contributed to that. The transfiguration teacher resolved to apologize and take back everything she said.

She turned around sharply, taking the people around her by surprise. A small figure even slammed into her and fell on his behind.

-Ooph! Sorry, madam, but you should decide where you are walking. - The green-eyed boy informed her.

Minerva felt a sense of unreality. She didn't need to look at the famous scar to realize who the James look-alike was.

-Harry Potter?


End file.
